Fingertips
by insomatic-studios
Summary: Santana and Quinn release feelings for each other after Santana is ignored by Brittany.
1. Fingertips

Fingertips.

Ridges of fingerprints dragging across Quinn's palm. The sensation so sharp, yet light, she can't help but gasp; Her mind is concentrated on the feel of Santana above her.

Her fingernails begin dragging across Quinn's skin, and she lifts her chin so Santana has a clear path to kiss her neck.

Everything is dark.

Everything is black.

Everything is unseen except for the explosions of colors behind her eyelids; the blues and purples, yellows and reds. Everything is swirling, but not mixing together. People say when ones sense is no longer in use, the rest amplify. Truer words have never been said.

Quinn can hear everything.

She can feel _everything._

Every sense is at its highest and it is absolutely overwhelming. She doesn't know what to do. She cannot move on the outside, but her insides are exploding. Her hands are pinned above her by Santana and her toes curl when her tongue knocks on her lips, asking for invitation. Reluctantly, Quinn's lips oblige and she lets Santana's tongue barge into her mouth. Reluctantly, not because she doesn't want it, but because she is afraid the butterflies in her stomach will emit and erupt through her body until she can fight the urge no longer.

There is something wonderful to her about losing complete control. There is something thrilling about knowing and beautiful about trust.

_Did she trust Santana?_

Quinn wants to.

She can feel every single one of her taste buds and can taste the sweetness in her saliva. There hot breath mixes, and even through the air she cannot tell where it ends or begins. So soft and wet with intent, Santana's tongue thrives to find the deepest and darkest places past her hungry lips.

The kiss is slow and sensual. The kiss is selfish, but it's kind. Her lips befriend Quinn's; they move in a way that she could never imagine and they spend time getting to know each other. Their lips move in harmony as they brush past each other.

Then the kiss turns greedy; it gets restless. Her lips leaves Quinn's wanting and longing for more. They tease and ridicule; they are evil and ruthless. Santana and Quinn tag team with their teeth. White, jagged pearls envelop each other, pulling, tugging, scraping and dragging. Quinn should be concerned, but she's not. Any feeling caused by Santana is a good feeling, no matter how painful it may be. In fact, she wants more. She wants all of it; the bruises, the cuts, and the marks. She wants proof it actually happened.

It feels like a dream. Quinn tries to remember how it all started, but Santana's hot lips travel to her jawbone.

Sharp strokes; teeth; lips.

Quinn sighs, any sound escaping her mouth sounds foreign and she hears it far away.

Fingertips again.

Ridges following the curvature of her chest and she hovers over the valley in between. Quinn's mind splits in tow, three, or maybe even four; every bit of her trying to figure out what is happening. Blood rushes to where Santana's lips are working and her skin feels heavy and sensitive. Her fingernails dig deep into Santana's palms as if that could somehow indicate that Quinn does not like to be teased. Her lips and tongue compose symphonies on her chest and it drives her crazy.

Quinn's chest swells with oxygen and is released when Santana draws a perfect line down to her stomach with her tongue. She gives up and lets go of any control she thought she had over herself. Quinn yanks at Santana's restraints in a fit of pleasure, only to be replied with a whine and the digging of heels into the mattress. She must have forgotten where her hands were in between Quinn's pleads, and quickly reminds her when a tingle crawls up her calves. Her fingers soft at first, dig into the skin just above her hip bones and Quinn moans because it couldn't feel any better. Her back arches off the bed and Santana takes the opportunity to slither her other hand between the mattress and her skin, outlining the valley straight down to her lower back. Her mouth is no longer on her chest but moving slowly down her stomach.

Quinn's there; at the point where even if she tried to open her mouth, no sounds could escape.

Fingernails scrape her back.

_Please leave a mark._

Lips caress her stomach and muscles tighten. Hands swirl across her thighs and they part like the red sea. Quinn can hear Santana smirking. She can feel the heat of her hands hovering over her pelvis. She'd be chuckling and observing the lust. They're bathing in the honesty that's been held back for so long. Their bodies unclothed, souls uncovered. They're completely exposed, and there is nowhere to hide. There is no flaws, no imperfections, because they are both equal. All things stashed away are now present to hear, taste and feel.

Santana hovers over Quinn and her tongue just licks the outer lining of her lips. She's falling; it's dark. It's pitch black. In her mind, Santana is a god, she is an entity. She can feel her everywhere; her nails on her stomach and her lips on her burning skin.

She is losing herself.

Fingertips.

Quinn's chest rises and falls in deep long breaths, and she wants it to last. She wants to feel her on top of her forever. Her teeth tug lightly on her lips, her tongue brushes them softly and her fingers search her body one more time.

The wall that has so long held her is unconfined with one last embrace as Santana sits up.

There's a silence, but her eyes smile up at Quinn and she releases her grip on her wrists. Quinn reaches lower and wraps her arms around Santana's half-naked body, and she chuckles into her shoulder.

"What?"

"I told you I would blow your mind," Santana sneers.

"Oh please," Quinn laughs.

"C'mon Fabray, you could barely keep yourself together.

"Now I know what Brittany is missing out on."

"Don't remind me."

"That didn't feel like a pity fuck."

"Hardly."


	2. Something Different

The second time Santana showed up on Quinn's doorstep, she immediately let her in; the rims of her eyes were red, and filled with tears. It looked as if she had been out because her clothes were skin tight, and the only time she ever wore those kinds of things was when she was with Brittany.

Santana spun to face Quinn as soon as she shut the door, "I need to get wasted," she exclaimed.

Quinn's head nodded towards the kitchen, "everything is in the top drawer on the left."

Santana matched off into the kitchen, and Quinn took a seat in the living room; she appeared around the corner a few moments later. It looked as if she had no trouble finding the strongest alcohol they had, and set a full bottle of tequila and two shot glasses down in front of Quinn and started pouring until they were filled to the point of overflowing. Quinn actually wasn't planning on drinking, but at this point, she had the right mind not to reject anything Santana offered her. She gave the tequila one last apprehensive glance and raised it to her lips, tipping it up. Quinn grimaced as the liquor licked flames all the way down her throat.

The second she set her glass down, Santana was filling it up and motioning for her to drink again.

They drank until they literally could not drink anymore; the bottle was drained, and soon enough, Santana was wrapping herself around Quinn. She began drawing random patterns on her back in an effort to keep her clam, because sorrow as inevitable, but in time, Santana began to cry; the kind that shook her whole body until she couldn't breathe and had to gasp for air. After a while of silent sobbing she raised her head to look at Quinn, the overhead lights reflected in the tears that still threatened to fall from her eyes and black makeup was smeared down her cheeks.

"Can you please-please just make everything stop for a while?" she stuttered, and tears began to fall in cascades again, "just make me forget?"

Santana whimpered a few times and Quinn shushed her with nonsense sounds. She raised her off the couch with gentle hands and led her upstairs to her bedroom.

Once there, she undressed Santana and herself slowly. Quinn's hands felt every inch of uncovered skin; she worked with purpose, and touches that soothed and reassured. She wanted to bring her fully to the moment, allowing only her and Santana to be in the room. No Brittany.

When Santana's trembling had subsided and her eyes were no longer threatening to overflow, she gently laid her down on the mattress and let her fingers move over her skin in swirls. It wasn't long until Santana was arching and gasping into Quinn, her hips rocking and body shivering for entirely different reasons. They balanced on each other's hips, tangled in sheets and skin slick with sweat as hands clutched and mouths explored there limits. They worked their way around the pain until the ghosts were almost gone, and Santana was consumed in Quinn's gleaming skin; scars and all. When they were both where they needed to be, and nothing was left except for sighs, groans, and heavy eyelids, Quinn wrapped herself around Santana once more, and they both fell asleep so fast, both of them could've considered it a dream in itself.

The fan swirls in a circle over and over again and Quinn is not quite sure how long she's been awake. The clock that is closer to Santana has been knocked on the floor, she assumes, because it is no longer where it usually is. Her guess is that she got angry at the sound of the alarm and swatted it until it either shut up, or eventually fell. She can't help but grin at the thought, but it quickly reminded that she has a sleeping body on top of her.

Quinn looks down to find a blob of black hair on her chest, a hand across her ribs, and a thigh across her own. She shifts a little bit, but settles back down just as fast. Her breathing is so steady and she feels amazingly warm; she spends a few more minutes just lying there and soaking it all in. The sun is beginning to shine through the blinds, casting long shadows and peaks of gold all over her room. Quinn tries to sneak out from under Santana, but she's heavy and still asleep. She makes a dissatisfied noise, but motions off just enough for Quinn to squeeze out. She sighs, moving across to Quinn's side of the bed to find the warmth that left just a few seconds earlier.

Quinn slips on her robe and takes one last look at Santana before heading downstairs. Her chest rises and falls at an even pace. She can barely see her face beneath all of her hair and her legs and sprawled with her arms under her pillow. _How did she get so lucky?_

She's halfway done with the pancakes when she spots Santana coming down the stairs. She's rubbing her eyes, and has the sheets from the bed wrapped around her body.

"Morning, Sunshine."

"Mmm, good morning." Her voice is hoarse and sexy.

Quinn's eyes size Santana up; she just has her undergarments on, and one of Quinn's flannel shirts, which is unbuttoned exposing her dark skin. Quinn looks back down at the pancakes, and squeaks when she realizes she's nearly burnt one. Santana finds a seat on the stool across the other side of the counter and watched Quinn. Her head is lazily placed on her palm, and her hair is a complete mess. Quinn tries to hide her smile, but simply cannot.

"What?" Santana asks almost instantly.

Quinn nods in her direction, taking note of the small pattern of bunny heads all over Santana's chest, "You're wearing Playboy Bunny underwear."

"Oh," Santana breathes, almost in relief, "Yeah, I kind of stole it from Brit…" she trails off, and stares down at the counter; Quinn can almost see her moments later, crying in her shoulder, and swiftly sets two pancakes on a plate and sets it in front of her.

"Eat up," she almost commanded, and instead of a tears streaming down her face, Santana smiled.

"Thanks a lot Fabray," she said, and grabbed her hand, "it means a lot to me. I shouldn't really show up on your doorstep a mess and shit. I'm lucky enough to have someone as good as you. Plus you're parents are like, never home," she adds with a smirk.

"Well, anytime," she grins, and leans in to kiss Santana before she can really have any time to take a bite, "but I really don't want to be just a friend with benefits, you know. That's not a relationship Santana. Not to me anyways. Maybe you should like, broaden you're horizon and see people other than Brittany. I mean sure, she great, and she's got the best mindset I've ever seen, but-"

"She's not you," Santana cuts in, and meets Quinn's eyes. "It's different with you. Sex means something different to you. It's sort of there to comfort and bring me down to earth. With Brittany it's just…"

"I know," Quinn says and leans in to kiss her again, "it's just different."

The kiss is sweet, and filled with something Quinn or Santana have ever felt. Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that will finally solve everything; The thing that will stop Santana's pain, and fill that hole in Quinn's heart that Finn, Sam or Puck could never seal. Quinn feels Santana smile in between it all, and she knows she's _exactly_ where she needs to be; and there's no place she'd rather be.


	3. Math Problems

Alright, it's threesome time folks! As requested, you will have some jealous Quinn in this chapter, but unless anyone else wishes it upon her, it won't happen again. Hopefully in the next chapter there will be some hate sex, because that's the best, isn't it? If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them. All comments are appreciated too! Hope you enjoy, and be sure to tell me what you think!

Santana sighed loudly and reached to intertwine her hand in Quinn's as the warning bell rung. The choir room was full with all the members of the Glee club; Kurt was intense in describing the new Mark Jacobs clothing line to Mercedes, Rachel was lecturing Finn on something that probably had no significance to his life, but her obediently nodded anyways. Puck was talking to Sam, who had an extremely uneasy expression on his face, and Brittany, over in the corner, was all alone. Santana had to consciously look away, and she felt Quinn's hand tighten around hers as Mr. Shue began to speak.

"Alright, let's give our full attention to Santana and Quinn, they have something they would like to share with us," he motioned to them with his hands, and Santana cleared her throat.

"Since it's getting closer and closer to graduation, Quinn and I would just like to tell you all that we are now seeing each other," Santana stated confidently and glanced at Quinn, who was grinning ear to ear.

"That's _so_ hot," Puck uttered with a dreamy look, and Quinn giggled.

Kurt's gaze fixed on Brittany, "and what do you think of all of this?" he questions, cocking an eyebrow.

"Why would you ask her that?" Sam grumbled.

"No, I think that I should be happy for them," she says, nodding the slightest in their direction, "if Santana can't be happy with me, why not Quinn?"

"That's probably the most insightful thing you've ever said," Kurt stated with a blank look, and Mercedes laughed.

"But I'm jealous that they'll be graduating, because I won't be."

"Wait, what?" Santana asked, just as the final bell rung, and everyone practically jumped out of their seats. She sprung over and caught Brittany by the crook of her elbow, leaving Quinn absently chasing after her.

"Santana, you shouldn't-"

"Britt, why didn't you tell me you were failing?"

Brittany turned to face Santana and Quinn, but her eyes fell to the ground, " It's just math," she mumbled, " my teacher said that if I don't get at least a C on my next test, I'm going to be a senior for the rest of my life. I wouldn't mind it, I like high school."

"I want you to graduate," Santana exclaimed, shaking Brittany's arms so that their eyes met. She looked over at Quinn for a moment, who had been politely listening the whole time, before speaking again, "Why don't you come over to Quinn's house tonight. Her parents will be gone, and we'll help you study."

"Wait, like _our_ studying?"

"Yes, _our_ studying," Santana replied.

Quinn suddenly began looking back and forth between Brittany and Santana, "whoa, whoa, who said this was okay?"

"Oh come on, it'll be fine. She needs help."

"I thought you like, hated me or something," Brittany cut in, her eyebrows raised in question.

"I can't let you fail high school. Why don't you go home and get ready. Go home, and do whatever Brittany does go prepare for a night out, and we'll see you later. Quinn and I need to have a chat."

"Okay," Brittany nods, and turns to trot away.

Santana twirls to meet a red-faced Quinn; her arms are crossed and her eyebrows are creased together, "What the hell does 'our' studying mean? And I thought you were mad at her. Like, mad enough to come over to my house to get drunk and bang each other all night."

"Okay, calm down," Santana soothes, and pushes Quinn back into a plastic chair that happens to be conveniently there, "Brittany is the type of person who can remember things if she is rewarded. So the night before a big test, I'd sneak into her house, and we'd study. The harder the question, the bigger the reward."

"Okay, what are you talking about?" Quinn sighs, rolling her eyes.

"Every time she would get a question right, I would take some of my clothes off. Then I'd start to kiss her and do other stuff."

"I'm not doing that!" Quinn shouted.

"No, I'm serious," Santana whined and grabbed Quinn's hands, "one time, we got carried away, and I practically fucked her. The next day she aced her test."

"What happened to it just being us?"

"I do, I really want it to just be us, but Brittany needs help, and no matter how mad I have gotten at her, I can't let her fail. This is the only way she can remember."

Quinn huffed and sat back in her chair, "I can't."

"Yes, you can. Besides, you like math, right?"

Brittany sits cross-legged on Quinn's bed; Santana is in front of her on her knees, and Quinn rests behind her. Santana already doesn't have very many clothes on, but Quinn made sure to cover up nice and good.

"Okay Brittany, we're going to start off easy," Santana says, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Can't Quinn be in front," she asks, and Quinn tightens her jaw from behind.

"Brittany, focus."

Quinn begins drawing the Pythagorean Theorem on Brittany's back over her shirt. The room is quiet for a moment, but she nods and answers blankly.

"A squared plus B squared equals C squared. The Pythagorean theorem."

Santana merely smiles and slips her shirt over her head, and Quinn can feel her cheeks grow hot. She's wearing and extra lacey, extra tiny black bra, and Quinn has to not her fingers in the sheets to keep from attacking her.

"Next," Brittany commands.

Quinn draws a square root sign with parenthesis, letters, and exponents together. They both stare at her expectantly, although Quinn can only see that back of her head.

"Distance formula!" she shouts.

"Yes!" Santana yells, and slips off her pants painstakingly slow. Her skin is smooth and dark in the dim light, and she brings herself to hover above Brittany.

"Wait, Santana, can Quinn be up front now. I've always wanted to kiss her."

"I can't-" Quinn begins, but Santana thrusts her up front, switching their places. "I'm not going to strip for Brittany!" she yelps.

"For me? Please," Santana groans.

Quinn sighs and shoots daggers at Santana, who is already drawing the next problem on Brittany's back.

Brittany grins up at Quinn, "square root."

Quinn reaches down and lifts her sweatshirt over her head, throwing it aside.

"Aw come one! That's not fair, she has a t-shirt on!"

"Quinn, please?" Santana says.

"Ugh, she replies, and removes that as well, causing Brittany to smile again.

"Can I kiss her now?" Brittany asks.

"Focus," Santana encourages.

It takes a while to draw on Brittany's back this time, but Quinn is still staring at Santana in disbelief.

"That's distributive property."

"It sounds like Brittany is fine. She's answered all of them correct so far," Quinn protests.

"No, my teacher said I'm the dumbest person she's ever met," Brittany states, "now take off your pants," she says, and reaches over to unbutton them.

"I can do it myself!"

"Quinn!"

"Santana!"

Brittany's lips are abruptly on Quinn's; they're wet, and astonishingly taste sweet, but Quinn shoves her away faster than she could get it through her head that Brittany just kissed her.

"No, I'm _not _doing this," she squeaks, and wipes her lips, but Brittany unexpectedly moves away, and Santana is in front of her.

"Yes, you are," Santana purrs millimeters away from her mouth; Quinn can't hold back any longer, and leans forward to an open-mouthed kiss.

Quinn can't breathe; Santana is shoving her backwards into Brittany's arms, and she begins kissing down her neck while Santana continues to caress her front. Her skin is covered in goose bumps and her mind is blazing with rage, but she can't move; Santana won't let her. She can't control herself though; it's as if the devil is pushing and pulling her towards Santana, and she absentmindedly bites Santana's lip. Hard. She can taste the blood from her mouth, but she only groans and shoves Quinn again so she's on her back.

"I can take it rough Fabray," she growls as Brittany forces her way above Quinn, and she notices she somehow discarded her clothes as well.

Santana leans over Quinn and kisses Brittany straight on the lips, and Quinn's body explodes again. She forces herself in between them and locks lips with Brittany, who takes the opportunity to place herself in between Quinn's legs, causing her to gasp. Santana laughs at her reaction, and Quinn breaks her kiss with Brittany to find Santana's mouth. Her fingernails scrape into her spine and pull her as close as she can get. There stomach's brush together, and Quinn moans; it feels like she is on fire, and the closest relief is Brittany. She shifts her weight onto Brittany's lap, causing her to fall backwards and flip their positions. She nearly lunges for her lips, and Brittany's tongue swirls in her mouth.

Their mouths battle for one another in a fit of pleasure; they are soaked with sweat and rip at each other's skin for more. Brittany trails kisses down Quinn's front, stopping at _that_ spot on her hip bone, and she arches into an anxious Santana, who hungrily nips and bites at the same spot. The only thing she feels she can do is lay there. Her arms feel like dead weights and eventually she finds herself lying on her back, watching them both above her. When her eyes become heavy and her lips can no longer work, she pushes them away, and Brittany and Santana take to making out alone. The lines between hate and lust blur so fast that Quinn begins to cry to herself. Neither of them notice, and she finally feels the warmth of two bodies on each side of her; the heat lulls her to sleep.

Santana is the first to notice Quinn's absence when they wake up. It's still dark outside, and she has no idea how long they've been asleep. The sheets on the bed are gone and are sprawled out on the floor, and Brittany is curled up in a ball next to her.

"Hey," she whispers loudly, shaking her awake.

Brittany's eyes slowly open, and look around in total confusion, "I think the aliens probed me again."

"No silly, we spent the night at Quinn's, remember?"

A hint of realization creeps across Brittany's face and she sits up, but Santana places a hand on her shoulder, "Britt, why don't you wait here, I'm going to go find Quinn. Find your clothes or something," she adds and springs up.

Even though Quinn is gone, she has thoughtfully left two robes out. Santana takes the plain pink one, figuring Brittany would rather have the one with the cats. She cinches it loosely around her waist and heads downstairs.

Quinn is sitting at the kitchen table, twirling a coffee cup in her hand; she is staring out the window until Santana comes around the corner. Her lips immediately purse and her jaw clenches.

"We didn't really do much studying last night, did we?"

Santana sneers, "no we didn't."

"God, I was so stupid," she sighs, and tears spring to the edges of her eyelids.

"Oh c'mon Q, don't even pretend for a second you didn't have fun last night."

"No I really didn't. I was too naïve to see that you just wanted to get back with Brittany somehow. So you tried to make it enjoyable for both of us. But I didn't have such a great time Santana. I've wanted you and only you for a long time," she almost screams, and a single tear trickles down her cheek.

"Well then why didn't you stop us, huh?"

"Because on Brittany! She's got the mind of a two year old, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but god, I hope she fails that damn test."

"Don't say that! We've been best friends for…forever. I want to see the smile on her face when they hand her that diploma."

"Well I need you to do something for me, right now Santana. I need you choose. I need you to choose between Brittany, and me," Quinn cries through a clenched jaw, "I thought we had something. Something special, but apparently not."

It is quiet for a moment, and Quinn tries her best to wipe away all the tears cascading out of her eyes. Santana exhales and hesitates for a moment, but slowly walks over to where Quinn is standing, and wraps her in a hug. It takes a minute, but Quinn eventually cloaks her arms around Santana as well and sobs into her shoulder.

"I've just had a hard time letting her go," Santana whispers, and strokes Quinn's hair. "I love you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, and I will do anything to stay with you. I realize now that that was wrong, and I won't let it happen again. I'll go tell Brittany to leave," she says, and backs away.

"I love you too," Quinn replies, and reaches to wipe her eyes for the last time, "it's hard for me to trust people, you know? But I've somehow let you in, of all people. And I need to know that that trust is there, and always will be. When you do stuff like that, it's just…it's just fucked up, you know?"

"Do you mean that literally?" Santana questions with a smirk.

Quinn laughs to herself, "No, I don't mean that literally. But I will help you get over Brittany. Whatever it takes, I'll go there." Santana grins, and nods. As she turns to head up the stairs, Quinn grabs her hand, "Wait," she says, and pauses to breathe again, "Will you wish Brittany good luck on her test?"


End file.
